Princess
by Lunaretic
Summary: AU. A scarred, bitter soul seeking peace and privacy in a late-night bar, the last place he expected to find companionship was with the bartender. Z/A


**Author's Notes:** Just something silly and lighthearted to work on while I struggle through the intensity of _Hush_. It'll be a straightforward and simple storyline, shorter chapters and all. Nothing too crazy, nothing too adventurous. Has the possibility to become that way in the future, but for now, I'm keeping it chill.

I've always wanted to do an AU. Please let me know your thoughts. Reviews are amazingly encouraging. =)

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**Chapter One**  
The Beginning of the End

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Once upon a time, he was just a scrawny fifteen year old bussing tables and flipping burgers over a steaming hot grill. Ball cap yanked low over his eyes, apron splattered with flour and fryer grease, he'd snatch orders thrown in on the zip line and immerse himself in whatever his shift entailed that day: prep, expo, line cook, he did it all. It was a cozy little diner where inappropriate jokes were passed freely between the boys and small town gossip traveled unashamedly from waitress to waitress, snowballed and garbled into something much more juicy than the original tale. Sometimes that was exactly what the cooks made fun of the girls for. Ah, the sweet rivalry between the Back of the House and the Front of the House employees.

He often found himself missing those days where his only concerns included paychecks big enough to cover the cost of the latest video game. But ten years and one horrible accident later, Zelgadis Greywords had established himself in the city as the renowned owner of a crazed five star restaurant and connecting bar, and his day-to-day worries now centered around food sales and liquor laws, and an odd hunch that Gourry, one of his hired managers and a very good friend, was getting a little too comfortable with a certain veteran redheaded bartender.

But he also had to struggle with running his business from behind closed doors, away from the fragile eyes of customers who would shriek and run away at the sight of his disfigurements. And for that, he couldn't afford to lose Gourry as the welcoming and charismatic face of the Ra Tilt, or the lovely-but-lethal Lina Inverse as the bar's main attraction. She had a hot temper and razor-sharp attitude, but she sure knew how to keep her head above water in high volume business and could easily handle the slightly rougher late-night crowd. Zelgadis was actually considering promoting her to bar manager; that would efficiently solve the fraternization problem between his two employees.

It wasn't, however, something for him to mull over late on a Thursday night – or a very, very early Friday morning, depending on how one looked at it. Head bowed, he breezed through the tinted glass doors of Trickster's, an after-hours members only bar that he had been frequenting over the past year. His own establishment closed its doors at two o'clock every night, and while he normally lingered to assist with shutting it down, he made sure to be out of there promptly at two on Thursdays. From then until five, he wasn't Zelgadis Greywords, successful but rarely seen owner of the Ra Tilt. He was simply Zel, an average guy just looking for a few hours to himself once a week to get some reading done while sipping on a glass of his favorite red wine.

With Nietzsche's _Beyond Good and Evil_ in hand and tan trench coat billowing behind him, he briskly made his way to the bar with purpose, slid onto a cushioned stool without hesitation. Somewhere in the back of his mind, his subconscious noticed the unusually larger crowd present tonight, but he waved it away without another thought. He didn't look up as he cracked open his book to where he'd last left off; the bartender, Zangulus, would already know what he wanted. Zel liked the guy. He was cocky and loud-spoken, but knew when to leave someone alone. He was just part of the routine, and Zel liked that routine. The restaurant business was a tricky one that could go thrive or sink at any given moment. He needed his Thursday nights where he was waited on for a change, and everything was solid and sturdy: no twists, no surprises, no curveballs--

"What can I get for you?"

His head snapped up. A pair of passionate blue eyes gazed at him from the other side of the counter. He stared back dumbly. The person standing there was definitely _not_ Zangulus, unless he had a recent operation that drastically altered his physical body into that of a short, slender, and very curvaceous young female. Although he wished for that outrageous possibility to ring true, he wasn't quite that delusional.

Still...no. No, no, no. No.

This was not part of the routine. Her arrogant predecessor, he could handle. They were well past the stage of awkwardness that had been present before Zangulus gradually became used to Zel's unique appearance. They had risen to a level of understanding, even became friends in a way, though Zangulus knew never to push the other man for more conversation than he was willing to partake in. But it was comfortable. Easy. Companionable.

This girl, however, knew nothing about him, was free to judge him and scrutinize him and jab an accusing finger at him, and he just wasn't ready to go through all of that again and that was why he relied so heavily on his routine in the first place...

His thoughts kept rambling on in his head as he still gawked at her without offering a response to her innocently posed question. Her eyes widened, and he feared it was because she'd finally noticed the light rippling of scars on his forehead and around his eyes, fully expected her to run away hollering for the manager to come save her from the creepy monster at the bar. Typical, he thought bitterly to himself. Girls her age were so shallow.

Zel was blown away when she merely followed her surprise with a wide grin, recognition dawning in her eyes. "Oh! I'm sorry, I didn't realize it at first. Sangiovese, right?" He blinked, faced with her blindingly chaste smile.

She knew his favorite wine. Zangulus must have tipped her off on his regular drink of choice. She probably assumed she knew everything about him now. If she wasn't the type to hide her eyes from his grotesque features, then she would be the pushy kind that would insist on knowing absolutely everything about him. Out of pity, of course.

He finally spoke after a few more seconds of painfully awkward silence. "Two ounces of Johnny Walker Black. Neat."

Now why the hell did he do that? He'd been drinking Sangiovese every Thursday night for the past year. This girl was messing up his entire routine in every way possible so far.

Her smile dropped, lips forming around an embarrassed "o" as she blushed lightly. "I'm sorry. I thought..." She chuckled nervously and gave him a tiny bow of apology. "I'm sorry," she said again.

"Don't be sorry." Damn it, he didn't need to be talking to her, much less in a tone much softer than what he wished to speak with. He cleared his throat, readying to take a firmer stance with her. "Just do it."

"Right," she nodded in the affirmative with a look of inspiration. Dear lord, what was he in store for?

She scurried away to the well to prepare his drink, and he suddenly became very aware of why there were more patrons than usual at the bar this night. Lined up on the stools along the counter, they grinned idiotically at her as she hurried by, nudging each other non-too-subtly with conspiratorial winks shared between them. One held up his empty martini glass.

"Princess," he called out to her, and Zel was grateful that the man still held a tone of respect, though he wasn't sure why he cared in the first place. The girl looked up from where she measured Zel's scotch into a rocks glass and she chuckled and nodded.

"Princess," Zel muttered quietly to himself in puzzlement. A man two stools down from him leaned over with a friendly smile.

"They don't wear name tags here and it became a guessing game. We finally settled on 'Princess' because...well, she just reminds us of one."

Zel didn't really care to make friends with any of the other club members of Trickster's, but he had to ask the question that was burning through his brain. "What happened to Zangulus?"

"You didn't hear? Martina had her baby. He had to switch his schedule around to work an earlier shift."

"Oh. Right," Zel grunted. Though in truth, he didn't know that Zangulus had had a kid on the way. Heck, he didn't even know the guy was married to begin with.

The man shifted back to his seat where his pitcher of beer was waiting for him, leaving Zel to sulk.

Princess came back with his drink in hand, set it down carefully in front of him on a small white napkin. "Here you are, sir."

He glanced up at her with hard eyes before hesitantly reaching out to grab his glass, waiting for her to start rambling off questions about his appearance. Or maybe she would be more coy about it, ask him bland, non-invasive things like where he was from and what he did for a living, and then work her way up to the more personal inquiries. Women...so sneaky. They all thought they were the masters of manipulation. God knew he had a slew of ex-girlfriends that matched that description.

She surprised him yet again when she simply smiled politely and started backing away. "Just let me know if you need anything else, okay?" Her expression was casual. Sincere. But it only served to make him more wary of her intentions, however innocent they outwardly appeared to be.

Just what was she up to?

But Princess was already gone, tending to her other customers and working her way through a pile of dirty dishes. He noted with distaste that some of the men had purposefully chosen their seats just because of their positions in front of the sink, providing a clear view of her bending over to scrub the filth off of all the various glasses. Princess was well endowed indeed, but at least nothing was...falling out.

Good, he nodded to himself in satisfaction. Leers, he could handle, as long as the patrons were quiet about it. But all it would take was an exposed, ahem, body part, and the ensuing hoots and hollers would drive him right out of his prized sanctuary. Hopefully, it wouldn't come to that.

His gaze lingered on Princess as she busied herself with cleaning dishes and taking orders. He took a sip of his scotch, narrowed his eyes in speculation.

He didn't get much reading done that night, despite her almost never bothering him unless it was for a refill of his drink. When five o'clock rolled around and she was ready to lock up, he closed his neglected book and climbed down from the stool, his mood dark and grumpy. She glanced at him as he adjusted his coat, flashed him one of her warm smiles that only made him feel more uneasy.

"Have a good day," she said softly to him, and he shifted uncomfortably beneath her unwavering cobalt gaze. He reached into his pocket once she looked away, pulled out enough cash to cover his drinks and the usual twenty percent tip. But after a moment of hesitation, he put down an additional five dollar bill.

His hand was shaking as he drew it back into his pocket, but he nodded curtly and spun and left the bar as agilely as when he'd come in. He was halfway home when he realized something strange.

Princess had never once looked at his scars.

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**Disclaimer:** I do not own Slayers.

On a side note...I realized I've been spelling Zangulus' name wrong in _Hush_. Oops.


End file.
